The Weight of Water
by Mercaque
Summary: By the time Chichiri realizes the trap has been sprung, it may already be too late for Tasuki. Direct references to past TasukixNuriko yaoi, indirect hints at TasukixChichiri if you want to read it that way. Angst, spoilers for episode 33.
1. Chapter 1

**Summary:** By the time Chichiri realizes the trap has been sprung, it's already too late.

**Rating:** PG-13.

**Author's Notes:** Direct references to past TasukixNuriko. Focuses on Tasuki and Chichiri's relationship, which can be read as platonic or pre-slash depending on your interpretation.

**Warnings: **Yaoi, references to character death, salty language. Spoilers for episode 33.

* * *

"Mind if I join you, no da?"

Tasuki shrugged halfheartedly, poking at the campfire with a stick. Chichiri took as permission to sit beside him.

Nuriko's death had taken a heavy toll, though Tasuki hid it well. He still squabbled with Tamahome at the slightest provocation, still wielded his tessen swiftly in battle. But away from the others, Chichiri often caught him in moments like this: face drawn and defeated, shoulders slumped, eyes dull and rimmed with dark sleepless circles.

Chichiri took off his mask and considered his fellow warrior carefully.

Truth be told, Tasuki was holding up better than expected. He and Nuriko had been in the earliest blush of infatuation, that special time when love seems to open up its own exhilarating new world. In Nuriko, Tasuki had discovered the rare personality who was not cowed by his brash personality, but energized by it; and in Tasuki, Nuriko had discovered someone whose blunt passion obliterated all self-doubts about masculinity and femininity. Many times had Chichiri spied them laughing together in the palace garden, or training together in the hopes that Nuriko's brute strength could be honed into a formidable weapon; he had even occasionally caught them emerging from each other's chambers with furtive little smiles.

For a period of time - only a few months, though it felt like a lifetime - one was almost never seen without the other. Until Nuriko's fateful decision to go with Miaka and Tamahome, and then to pursue Ashitaare, they had been inseparable.

Which is why Chichiri was saddened, but not completely surprised, to hear Tasuki say--

"I got this feelin', Chichiri, like Nuriko's alive."

Chichiri's heart lurched. Even now, all these years later, there were still days when Hikou seemed to stare back at him out of the crowd, when Kouran's ghost drifted in his dreams. It had taken years to master his heart's agony at every false hope, every wishful thought. He was now more painfully aware than he had ever been of how much younger Tasuki was: not only in age, but in experience. He did not know, and could not possibly be prepared for, the twists and turns that lay ahead of him on grief's path. And Chichiri did not know how to begin telling him.

Gently he asked: "What gives you that feeling?"

"I keep havin' these dreams," Tasuki said.

Yes, Chichiri had easily guessed this, given the restless mumbling he often heard from the bandit's tent. Not grieving dreams; laughing ones, dreams of Nuriko in better days. Dreams, the mind's way of trying to set life's injustices right.

"I know what yer thinkin'," he continued. "That it's just me wishin' fer him back. But... Chichiri, you've gotta believe me. I've had some powerful dreams before, but _nothin'_ like this. The way Nuriko talks - it's like we picked up right where we left off. Sometimes I'd swear I could almost touch him..." Tasuki trailed off into a small, amazed laugh. "I'm tellin' ya, my mind ain't like yours, or Chiriko's. It ain't good enough to imagine all that by itself. I... I think it's really Nuriko himself, tryin' ta reach me somehow. Like his business with us ain't finished yet."

"Few people consider their business on earth finished when they are taken from us," Chichiri said, as delicately as he could.

Tasuki looked vaguely upset; but a shake of his head, and it seemed to go away. "I know it sounds like I'm crazy," he admitted. "But more and more, I _know_ Nuriko's not really gone."

"Forgive me if this is intrusive, Tasuki-kun. But if Nuriko is trying to reach you, what does he want?"

"He needs-" Tasuki cleared his throat, a poor attempt to cover the catch in his voice. "He needs me to come find him."

Chichiri paused thoughtfully. "Does that sound like Nuriko?" he asked. "Would he not want us to focus on the Shinzaho?"

"What are you sayin'?" he demanded. "That it's all in my head? That I don't know what Nuriko would want?"

"Tasuki-kun. A grieving heart will snatch at things a wise mind would discard." Chichiri smiled at him sadly. "I know you were close to Nuriko, and no one is heartless enough to expect you to let go of him immediately. But - please, do not let go of your better sense, either."

"But it does make sense!" Tasuki said, growing fervent. "'Cause I've been thinkin', Chichiri. Suzaku himself selected seven warriors to serve him, an' the priestess. We were all fated to find each other. How can it be fate fer us to be broken up so early? I'm startin' to think we're _meant_ to find Nuriko again, 'cause we're gonna need his help to get the second Shinzaho. So lookin' for him wouldn't be ignoring our duty to Konan, or the priestess. It'd be one and the same!"

"If it is fate that we seven stay together," Chichiri answered, "then Nuriko will return. But you and I are surely not powerful enough to reverse his destiny, are we?"

"This isn't some god damned philosophy riddle!" Tasuki exploded. "This is Nuriko's life! He sacrificed himself for us, and now there's a chance he might not be completely gone. The very least thing we owe him is to try! But you - you're sayin' we should just turn our backs on him? My god! For just this once, could you at least _pretend_ to give a shit instead of puttin' on yer mask and actin' like this is all some big fuckin' joke?"

_You don't know half the seriousness I am capable of, Tasuki-kun,_ Chichiri thought. But he absorbed the accusations with patience. Knowing the bandit's personality, he had expected this kind of outburst sooner or later; in fact, it would have worried him far more greatly if Tasuki were too broken of spirit to summon his temper.

"I will not fight with you, Tasuki-kun," he said quietly. He replaced his mask and stood up. "But should you wish to talk again, you need only ask, no da."


	2. A Dream and a Danger

**Summary:** By the time Chichiri realizes the trap has been sprung, it's already too late.

**Rating:** PG-13.

**Author's Notes:** Direct references to past TasukixNuriko. Focuses on Tasuki and Chichiri's relationship, which can be read as platonic or pre-slash depending on your interpretation.

**Warnings: **Yaoi, references to character death, salty language. Spoilers for episode 33.

* * *

Chichiri had not dreamed of Hikou in months. Perhaps Nuriko's death - perhaps this entire quest with the Suzaku warriors - had affected him more deeply than he had reckoned on, stirring up feelings and memories he thought he had long ago set at peace.

Whatever the reason, that night Chichiri found himself walking through his home village. A sunny dreamscape, where his dear childhood friend still walked happy and healthy. In his dream Chichiri walked with him, and Kouran was still alive, and there was peace.

But Chichiri had had this dream many times before in his life, and he knew well what was coming next. The floodwaters rose once again, impossibly fast and angry, to devour his village. Again Chichiri found solid ground washing away beneath him, and again he found himself clutching desperately at Hikou's arm, and again his best friend's eyes widened with the realization that death was upon him.

_No,_ Chichiri begged, as he always did, _NO!_

But again the waters carried debris towards him at ferocious speed, and again Chichiri lost half his vision in a white explosion of pain. Again something hot and sticky erupted out of his shattered eye socket, something he would only later realize was blood.

But for the first time in his life, Chichiri dreamed he did not let go of Hikou.

Though his injured face screamed with pain, and the flood surged all around them, it was as if their arms had melded together. Instead Hikou pulled Chichiri down with him, and together they were both swept into the raging waters.

Now the river swallowed Chichiri whole, angry crosscurrents tossing and jerking his body like a rag doll. He could not fight back, not even as a powerful undertow dragged him down beneath the water's surface. No matter how he kicked and thrashed, he could not get back to the surface. _Air - AIR!_ Chichiri thought, an animalistic panic overwhelming him. He could not breathe! Every time he tried to spit the water out, more rushed in, filling his nose and throat. His lungs grew tighter and tighter, ready to burst with the pressure of suffocation-

Chichiri awoke with a mighty gasp, panic still shaking him.

_What in Suzaku's name was that?_ he wondered, his breath still loud and ragged.

Not even at the depths of his guilt over Hikou had he experienced a dream so frighteningly physical. This one had left his throat raw, his guts still shaking and his muscles still desperate for air. And behind it lurked the same cold, despairing pain that had shot through his body shortly before Nuriko's death.

"That wasn't a dream at all," Chichiri murmured to himself in slow realization. _Then what was it? Why would I feel so powerfully as if I were drowning?_

Chichiri's eye widened as a terrible suspicion overtook him.

He threw off his blankets and raced out of his tent, footsteps crunching rapidly through the snow. Reaching Tasuki's tent, he flung open the flap to find it empty.

_He needs me to come find him..._

"Oh Houjun - you _fool!"_ Chichiri shouted, having rarely been angrier with himself than in that moment. "He tried to tell you..."

Tasuki had said it himself:_ My mind ain't good enough to imagine all that by itself._ Now Chichiri realized how unwittingly accurate those words had been. Tasuki hadn't just been imagining things; he really had seen Nuriko in some form or another. But if the drowning sensation were any clue, it could not have been the real Nuriko's spirit, because the real Nuriko would sooner walk through all nine hells than lead his beloved into danger.

And that, Chichiri deduced, left only one possibility: that whatever Tasuki had been seeing was a trick. Some kind of magical deception - perhaps a trap set by one of their enemies, designed to prey upon a grieving mind. Or perhaps some ancient enchantment they had accidentally awakened in this mysterious land of Hokkan.

All the clues had been there, Chichiri realized. _But all I could do was dwell on the past, letting my own feelings about Hikou and Kouran cloud everything else. Have seven years of meditation left me still so self-centered?_

"No," Chichiri answered himself out loud. No, his training had taught him to focus, not compound his folly by indulging in regret. He closed his eyes, focused on the breath coming into his nose and going out of his mouth, and stilled his mind. Only then could he concentrate, drawing on their connection as Suzaku warriors to locate Tasuki's spirit. _If it still exists -_

"There!" Chichiri cried softly.

He could feel it - thready, weakening - but not gone yet. And he broke into a mad sprint back to his tent. There he fetched his cloak and staff, cast a quick spell on his hat, and leapt.


	3. Ghosts

**Summary:** By the time Chichiri realizes the trap has been sprung, it's already too late.

**Rating:** PG-13.

**Author's Notes:** Direct references to past TasukixNuriko. Focuses on Tasuki and Chichiri's relationship, which can be read as platonic or pre-slash depending on your interpretation.

**Warnings: **Yaoi, references to character death, salty language. Spoilers for episode 33.

* * *

Magic was an inexact science, guided by gut instinct as much as precise spellcasting. Chichiri's kasa saw fit to deposit him a good quarter-mile away from Tasuki.

As he took in his surroundings, Chichiri realized why. Before him a forbidding mountain rose into the sky, a a cave's entrance jaggedly carved into its side. He could sense Tasuki's life force well enough to know that the bandit was in the cave, but some dark, malevolent energy prevented him from pinpointing Tasuki's exact location. And as he drew closer, Chichiri found he had to concentrate harder and harder to keep his focus on his fellow seishi.

_Tasuki, were you truly so blinded by grief, that you did not sense what evil force led you here?_ Chichiri wondered. But he shook his head as if to answer his own question, remembering how Tasuki had flung himself into battle against both Nakago and the kodoku-influenced Tamahome. Even if the bandit had sensed the darkness at work here, it would have only hardened his defiance.

Reaching the mouth of the cave, Chichiri lifted his index and middle finger, murmuring a determined incantation. At last he thrust his staff high and commanded, _"Enemy of Suzaku, I cast you out!"_

There was no effect. His spell seemed to bounce back at him, rejected by an incalculable force. Chichiri drew back, considering that he was dealing with someone powerful, someone whose magic he did not yet know how to break.

"Show yourself!" Chichiri shouted.

"Chichiri, it's all right," came a deep, booming voice. Mitsukake stepped out of the shadows, a limp redheaded form cradled in his big arms. "I sensed what was happening too, but I've managed to help Tasuki."

Chichiri's first instinct was to race forward and thank Mitsukake, ask what had happened; but the rational part of his mind told him to beware. He murmured a quick spell, casting it forward - and though it should have caused Suzaku's marks on Mitsukake's hand and Tasuki's arm to flare brightly, neither one did.

_An illusion!_

"I am sorry, Mitsukake-san," Chichiri said coldly, raising his hand. "But you aren't real, no da."

"What?" Mitsukake looked offended. "You've used_ magic_ on me? Your fellow warrior? Don't you trust _anyone?"_

But Chichiri stood firm, holding a hand in front of his chest to gather his energy; and then he thrust it out at the false Mitsukake, a blade of magic that sliced cleanly through the illusion. The healer vanished.

It chilled Chichiri to realize how instinctively he had wanted to accept the false Mitsukake as real. These illusions were carefully crafted - they appealed not only to sight but to every other sense, as if to bypass rational thought completely. Little wonder that Tasuki, already desperate to believe Nuriko was still alive, had been so susceptible.

Ruthlessly, Chichiri moved deeper into the cave. Concentrating deeply he allowed the evil energy to flow over and pass through him, feeling the currents in order to trace its highest concentrations. Taiitsu-kun had taught him an arsenal of defense techniques to keep such magic from seeping into him, and they held strong. But Chichiri still did not like the sensation it gave him, like a toxic oil sliding over his body.

"M-Mitsukake?!" came Chiriko's voice, his shriek all the more jarring because it came from a child. "Chichiri-san, what have you done? I - I came here because I trusted you all, and you've destroyed him!"

The child's form became visible, huddled and terrified.

"Will you kill me as well?" Chiriko asked. "Eliminate anyone who might be as special as you are?"

"You are not real," Chichiri told the child, and sent another slash of energy through the illusion.

"A child? You have harmed a _child_ in my kingdom?" Hotohori's voice, noble and horrified, and the Emperor emerged out of the darkness. "You are as inhuman as that smiling mask!"

Chichiri gritted his teeth, surprised to find the false emperor's attack stung. "Da! You are not real!" he repeated, and lifted his hand. Hotohori dissipated.

"We are real," said Tamahome. Chichiri turned to find him protectively holding Miaka.

"What will you do to us?" she asked fearfully. "Will you destroy us too?"

"He can't bear to see us happy," Tamahome growled. "He must destroy what reminds him of his loneliness."

"Chichiri, please-" Miaka begged. "If you must destroy us, take me first!"

"Miaka, don't," Tamahome said harshly. "He already hates you. You're the priestess. He cannot comprehend loyalty, and he hates the one who commands it."

"You aren't real either, no da," Chichiri shouted, though his voice strained slightly as he cast the illusion-breaking spell. Miaka and Tamahome vanished.

"What're ya even doing here, 'chiri?" Tasuki's voice, a casual challenge, came at him next.

The bandit lounged against the wall, arms draped possessively around - _Nuriko?_ In the brief second it took his mind to catch up with his instincts, Chichiri could not help an irrational gasp of relief to see both of his friends alive.

"You were wrong," Tasuki continued. "Nuriko _is_ alive, an' I got him back. Without yer help. You just couldn't stand to think it might be possible, could ya?"

"Gen-chan, haven't you figured it out? Chichiri _wanted_ me out of the way," Nuriko purred, voice silky and cold.

He arched back against Tasuki, who bent his head to nuzzle at Nuriko's neck. In turn Nuriko moaned, and lifted his face in bliss - an unexpectedly erotic sight.

"He might be a monk, but his thoughts are hardly pure," Nuriko continued. "He couldn't stand to see us together - like some pathetic, jealous woman."

Tasuki looked up, the disgust on his face so palpable Chichiri could not help flinching. "Is _that_ how it is, you sick fuck?" he gasped. "That why you couldn't give less of a shit about Nuriko dyin'?"

"This is ridiculous, no da," Chichiri said, and threw his spell forward. "You two aren't even close to real!"

Despite his cheery rebuke, the monk felt vaguely sick as he watched the illusion dissipate. Concentrating on the dark ki, Tasuki's spirit, and his own magical defenses was beginning to tax his reserves already. And the unexpected jolt at seeing Tasuki and Nuriko had been enough to unbalance him, for the briefest of moments only, but long enough for the sinister chill of this cave to seep into his bones.

_Your feelings do not matter,_ Chichiri reminded himself, focusing on his own deep breaths in and out. _Every second you feel sorry for yourself, the real Tasuki is dying._

With that at the front of his mind Chichiri mustered himself, drawing up his strength, ready to strike at the source of the illusions --

"Houjun?"

Chichiri closed his eyes in dread, knowing who he would see next.

When he opened them, Kouran stood in front of him, the first time he had seen her in nearly a decade. She was so real that Chichiri could almost smell her hair, feel the sunshine warming their backs as they walked along their favorite tree-lined path. Her eyes, wide and deep and devoted, could nearly make him forget - forget the floods, forget Suzaku, forget the priestess - forget everything except the life they had planned together.

"Houjun, I have missed you so badly," she whispered. Her hand, soft and warm, drifted along Chichiri's mask. "Why do you wear this terrible thing? Your real smile is more beautiful to me than any sight in the world."

"Kouran..." Chichiri said, arrested by the sight of her. If his concentration had been strained before, it was shattered now. _So real..._

"I love you, Houjun," she said. "Can you forgive me?"

"There was nothing to forgive!" he said, his voice breaking. And her resulting smile could have destroyed the world for its beauty. But Chichiri shut his eyes tightly and said: "But you are not real."

"Houjun, what do you mean--?!"

"Good-bye, Kouran," Chichiri whispered. He closed his eyes, not able to bear the sight of her face as he murmured his spell. And when he opened them, she was gone.

_Using even Kouran against me,_ Chichiri thought. Somewhere in his belly, a long-slumbering anger began to uncoil.

"You sent her away?!" came an accusatory shout.

_And Hikou as well,_ Chichiri realized, and surely enough found his childhood best friend had appeared out of the shadows. Directly behind Hikou's belly lay the source of these illusions. He nearly withered when he realized what choice was upon him - either re-live the worst moment of his life, or let Tasuki die.

_Detachment,_ Chichiri reminded himself. _You have spent years learning detachment. You know your task._

"Houjun," Hikou began, "what are y-"

But Chichiri was already chanting his illusion-breaking spell, lifting his staff to strike.

"Forgive me," he shouted, "forgive me, Hikou, _forgive me-!"_ Chichiri's voice rose into a mighty howl as he drove the staff forward. He shut his eyes tightly against the illusion but it did not matter, since Hikou's dying eyes, wide with shock and betrayal and panic, were already long-burned into his mind. He stabbed forward with all his might at the source of these illusions, expecting to encounter some massive otherworldly force. Instead, he heard a shattering of something small and delicate. He frowned in confusion, and crouched low to find pieces of a seashell lying beneath his staff.

"A shell...?"

A laugh, wicked and slithering, echoed behind him.

Chichiri looked up to find the darkness had lifted. Two massive lanterns lit the cavern, sending shadows dancing all along its wide walls. Between the lanterns stood a willowy creature, cold eyes peering out of a black-and-white painted face, an operatic headdress perched atop his head.

"So you had the strength to do it. You have destroyed _shin_." The strange-looking creature laughed again - and Chichiri realized this was Tomo, the Seiryuu illusionist of whom he had heard fearsome rumours. "Next time, I shall have to devise a greater challenge for you, O holy monk."

"Your little tricks are nothing compared to my own conscience," Chichiri replied. He rose, a low fury in his voice. "Where is Tasuki? What have you done with him?"

Tomo's face changed, a mockery of compassion. "Oh, the red-haired one? Why, I have helped him," he said. "I have taken away his grief."

"You've _toyed_ with it, not taken it away!" Chichiri shouted. "Tell me where he is!"

"Oh? You think I do not understand what I have done?" Tomo said. "On the contrary. I should think I understand your lonely friend better than you can possibly hope to. Unattainable love, the torment of all torments - he will not begrudge what I have given him."

Chichiri's grip tightened on his staff. "You have given him lies!"

"And you would lecture me on lies? You, wearer of that smiling mask?" Tomo cried, his voice acid. "I should think we are two sides of the coin, holy one!"

Chichiri drew a deep breath, his shoulders lifting as he assumed a battle stance. It was plain that talking to this creature was useless.

"Then perhaps," he said darkly, "it is time I showed you what a _holy one_ is capable of."

Tomo threw back his head. "Now this I should love to see!" he laughed. "I have studied your little rabble for longer than you know. And you know _nothing_ of my capabilities!"

"But your _capabilities_ have given me everything I need, no da," Chichiri replied. "After all, it was not my friends speaking to me just now. It was you. You hate the priestess; you're in competition for a fellow warrior; you have no concept of trust or loyalty. And yet you seem quite familiar with unrequited love - and disdainful of a jealous woman for much the same thing, if the words you put in Nuriko's mouth are any indication." He tilted his head, letting a mocking smile play across his face. "It isn't difficult to put it all together, na no da."

In truth, Chichiri wasn't as sure of himself as he sounded. But his instincts told him to draw upon the spell he had once used to infiltrate the Kutou Imperial Palace itself.

"It's me you want, isn't it, Tomo?" Chichiri asked in Nakago's dry baritone, having transformed his outer appearance to match. "Unattainable love, the torment of all torments?"

Even under his costume, Tomo visibly flinched. He took a step backwards. "How _dare_ you attempt such a trick on me-"

"It's no trick." Chichiri advanced smoothly towards Tomo, who had gone still and transfixed as "Nakago" closed the distance between them. "It's a demonstration of how very sad you are. Your ego infuses every particle of your crude little illusions. You thought you were taunting me, and instead you've only exposed your silly infatuation. You've made an utter fool of yourself, Tomo. Be grateful I am not the real Nakago; such weakness would sicken him."

"You..." Tomo's voice broke. _"How DARE YOU!"_

He flew forward to attack, but it was a wild, uncalculated flail. Chichiri dodged easily. In his rage Tomo had left himself wide open, and the monk shot forward without hesitation, slamming his staff into the illusionist's ribs.

As Tomo staggered back in surprise, Chichiri swiftly flipped up his staff to catch the other man in the jaw. His shoulders trembled with angry satisfaction - the crack of his weapon against Tomo's face felt _good_. And he gave his opponent no chance to recover, aiming another unforgiving strike at Tomo's midsection, following with another jab and blow, until with a mighty low sweep he sent Tomo sprawling.

At last Chichiri towered over the fallen illusionist, allowing the Nakago visage to fade away, lifting his staff to deliver another punishing blow-

Tomo began to laugh, shrill and hysterical. "And you think I am the fool! When you have to explain to your priestess that you've permitted one of her warriors to die, which one of us will be the greater fool?" he shrieked. "Or do you not know what a dreadful swimmer your friend is? You should have seen him beg me for help, like a stupid child!"

Chichiri halted. His fury fell away, replaced immediately by panic. He tried to focus on Tasuki's ki again, searching, searching - but where it had existed only a few minutes ago, now it was gone. In his retribution upon the Seiryuu warrior, he had not even noticed the moment it slipped away.

_Oh - oh Tasuki -_ he thought in horrified disbelief. _What have I done?_

Beneath him Tomo was attempting to crawl away, something that could not be permitted. Chichiri tore off his cloak, hissed a furious spell, and then flung it forward. Tomo disappeared beneath it, faster and faster the more he struggled to get it off. When the transportation spell had been completed, Chichiri snatched his kesa back.

Immediately Chichiri whirled, and broke into a mad sprint towards the back of the cave, where he had last sensed Tasuki's spirit. Soon the rocky tunnel opened up into a massive cavern, ripples of light from Tomo's lanterns dancing all along the high stone walls. It might have been beautiful, if not for the fact that the light patterns were reflections from the waters of a wide, deep mountain spring below.

Heart hammering in dread, Chichiri raced towards the water's edge. And he cried out when he saw a figure floating face-down and motionless, red hair fanning out on the water's surface.


	4. Repentance

**Summary:** By the time Chichiri realizes the trap has been sprung, it's already too late.

**Rating:** PG-13.

**Author's Notes:** Direct references to past TasukixNuriko. Focuses on Tasuki and Chichiri's relationship, which can be read as platonic or pre-slash depending on your interpretation.

**Warnings: **Yaoi, references to character death, salty language. Spoilers for episode 33.

* * *

Casting aside his staff and cloak, Chichiri raced towards the water and leapt. The ice-cold shock nearly made him cry out, but he forced his arms to stroke and his legs to kick, swimming as quickly as he could toward the center of the pool. _Tasuki-kun, just how did you get so far out?_

At last Chichiri reached him, wrapping urgent fingers around the other man's arm and trying to push him up out of the water. Tasuki's head rolled back limply, revealing red hair plastered against a still, grey face. A bolt of fear shot through Chichiri at the sight. He started back to the water's edge at a furious pace, propelling mightily despite the bandit's waterlogged weight, and with a final burst of willpower dragged them both ashore.

There Tasuki lay pale and unmoving, his skin icy to the touch. His breath had stilled.

"Oh gods, no, _no!" _Chichiri shouted.

_Another friend dead because of my anger,_ he thought, despair having shattered his normal tranquility. _Seven years of meditation, for NOTHING!_

_No -_ spoke up the calmer part of his mind. _No, you do not know how long Tasuki has been like this. _After all, he had been alive when Chichiri reached the cave; and he had been alive when Chichiri encountered the false Kouran. In the few moments in between, Tasuki might have slipped away, beyond help. But there was also hope, the faintest of hope, that he might still be clinging to some spark of life.

It was that last shred of hope that spurred Chichiri to compress Tasuki's chest, in hopes of expelling water; and to tear off his mask so he could breathe air into the younger man's mouth. He winced as he felt Tasuki's lips cold and unresponsive beneath his own, but - but he would not give up. For what felt like a desperate eternity Chichiri pressed on, breathing and pumping no matter how futile it seemed. _Please, Tasuki, you cannot let my mistakes cost you your life-_

At last Tasuki jerked beneath him. Eyes flying open, he drew a sharp, gurgling breath; then half-coughed, half-vomited a mouthful of water.

"Oh, gods, _fuck-"_ he groaned, rolling on his side to cough uncontrollably. The hacking noise echoed throughout the cave, but harsh as it was, it might have been the sweetest sound Chichiri had ever heard in his life. Gradually the coughing grew less urgent, Tasuki's shoulders heaving up and down as he began to get his breath back.

Shaking with numb relief, Chichiri sank back. _What I almost allowed to happen..._

"Chi... chiri...?" Tasuki groaned, looking up in a daze. He blinked, registering vague surprise as he took note of the monk's bare, scarred face.

"Hai," Chichiri answered, still faintly stunned himself. He fetched his cloak, still dry from when he had cast it off, and threw it over Tasuki, rubbing at the bandit's shoulders. _Yes, praise Suzaku, you really are alive-_ "Relax. We are in no immediate danger. You had better focus on drying off."

Tasuki nodded dimly. He pulled the cloak tight around himself, already beginning to shiver.

Chichiri, too, found his wet clothes unbearably heavy and cold. But he had endured worse in his travels, and had learned detachment from the body as a staple of his meditative practice, and so he did not let on. "I'm certain the others will be here soon," he said.

"Yeah," Tasuki answered gruffly. He did not appear happy at this fact. Judging from the increasingly distressed knit of his brow, and the back-and-forth flicker of his eyes, he was beginning to remember the exact circumstances that had drawn him to the pool in the first place. Abruptly, he shrank back from Chichiri, eyes flashing. "You - yer not one of those goddamned tricks either, are ya?!"

"No, Tasuki-kun. I am real," Chichiri said. He retrieved one of the shell fragments he had broken, and held it forward. Out of the shard appeared a jagged image of Hikou, before he simply flickered away. "This is what the illusionist was using to trick us. I have broken it."

Tasuki took the shell, eyes fixed on it. Gradually a stunned anguish came over his face, as he realized precisely what had been done to him.

"You know about the illusions," Chichiri murmured. "How did you figure it out?"

For a moment Tasuki seemingly could not answer, a bitter scowl darkening his face. "I didn't figure out a damn thing," he finally said. "I was all the way out to the middle of the pool when the guy, or whatever, took N... took the illusion away."

Chichiri set his jaw, a flush of anger returning to his face. He could well imagine the anguish of watching Nuriko fade away, followed by the terror of sinking beneath the water. Though it were a distinct violation of his principles as a monk, he briefly wondered if he should have used a killing spell on Tomo when he had the chance.

"All the gods, I'm a fuckin' idiot," Tasuki muttered.

"Intelligence has nothing to do with it," Chichiri said.

"But you tried to tell me," he said, "an' I just acted like a jackass. If I had listened to you, then maybe..."

"But I did not remotely suspect what was happening either." Chichiri moved closer. "This experience has... revealed some of my own blind spots to me as well, Tasuki-kun. If it had claimed your life, I would not be able to forgive myself."

Tasuki recoiled. "Aw, don't give me that," he said harshly. "It ain't yer fault I'm idiot enough to go walkin' out into the water. Idiot enough not to be able to tell the real Nuriko from a fake one..."

His voice faltered, his head bowing sharply, as if hearing himself say it aloud were a fresh shock.

"Tasuki-kun," Chichiri murmured, placing a hand at his shoulder.

The bandit crumpled towards him, unable to keep a strangled sob from escaping his throat. Chichiri drew Tasuki tightly against his own chest, as if to afford him the protection he had been unable to before, and allowed him to weep. Gently he allowed his hand to drift back and forth across the younger man's back, pained to feel his shoulders shake and heave as he expelled his grief.

"Ah, gods-" Tasuki said brokenly. "Ya think Nuriko will ever forgive me?"

"Forgive you?" Chichiri asked in astonishment. "For what?"

"Fer... fer not knowin' it wasn't him," he said. "I mean, what the hell does it say about me that I talked to that fake _thing_ night after night and never knew? Shit - I've _dishonored_ him-!"

"Tasuki-kun. Enough of that." Chichiri smiled at him encouragingly. "Right now, the only person Nuriko would be unable to forgive is the person who hurt you. He was just as loyal to you as you are to him. Would it not be a greater dishonor to his memory to believe otherwise?"

The bandit drew back, swiping at his face in frustration. "I... I didn't think of it like that," he said hoarsely. "Dammit - why can't I just..." He shook his head. "Make things make sense anymore?"

Chichiri grimaced. "Things will not make sense for a long time," he murmured.

Tasuki's eyes flicked up miserably.

"And some part of it will never make sense," Chichiri continued gravely. "Not fully; not ever. It will always be a part of you. But... I promise, it will not always feel like it does now. Day by day, you will put things back together. And one day you will wake up and realize that if it has not crushed you by then, it never will."

"Y..." Tasuki trailed. For a long, subdued moment he said nothing as he absorbed this. "So how long'd it take you?"

Chichiri drew back in surprise. "You are sometimes more insightful than you let on, Tasuki-kun," he said. "The change was so gradual I don't know exactly how long it was. Perhaps years."

"Oh," he said, the word _years_ seeming to deflate him.

"I do not know what help my limited experience can be," Chichiri said. "But - whatever my friendship is worth - I promise you will always have it."

Tasuki glared at him. "'Whatever it's worth'?" he repeated. "It's worth a hell of a lot, you idiot! Shit! I'm the one who oughtta be sayin' stuff like that, given how you saved my dumb ass even after all the stuff I said..."

"You were upset," Chichiri replied.

"Doesn't matter. It was inexcusable. An' I owe ya my life."

"Just don't make me save it again," Chichiri answered lightly. "This is getting to be a little nerve-wracking, you know."

Tasuki laughed, shakily. And a lopsided smile spread across his face, one that lacked his usual bravado, but was heartfelt all the same. Chichiri could not help a matching smile in return.

The moment was broken when a great shiver rippled through Tasuki's body.

_"Fuckin'_ almighty gods, it's cold in here!" he cried, rubbing at his shoulders. His eyes landed on Chichiri indignantly. "Yer all wet too, and ya didn't say a damn thing?!"

"I have experienced wet clothes before," Chichiri said.

"Well, outta all the idiot moves I made today, leavin' my tessen back at camp wasn't one of 'em." Tasuki jumped to his feet, circling the pool until he found his metal fan. "Got anything I can toast?"

Chichiri laughed, picking up his mask and replacing it. "Your resilience is a sight to behold, na no da."

"Feh. Some dry clothes would be a sight to behold right now-"

_"Chichiri! Tasuki!"_ came a shrill voice. _"Where are you?"_

The two men halted, hearing Miaka call out for them. Shortly afterwards they heard their fellow warriors - Tamahome, Mitsukake and Chiriko - shouting for them as well.

"You may get your wish sooner than expected, no da," Chichiri remarked.

"Yeah," Tasuki answered, his enthusiasm fading. "Do I hafta tell 'em what an idiot I was, or do you want the honors?"

"It would be irresponsible not to tell them of the dangers Tomo poses," Chichiri replied thoughtfully. "But... I'm certain we need not bore them with every detail, no da?"

A grateful smile broke across the bandit's face. "You do realize I owe ya about eight lifetimes' worth of Mount Reikaku's finest plunder, right?"

Chichiri chuckled. "I'm certain a simple bowl of rice here and there will do, no da."

_"Please! Tasuki! Chichiri! If you can hear me, say something!"_ came Miaka's voice yet again.

"Miko-sama!" Chichiri called out, getting to his feet and approaching the mouth of the cave. "We are in here, no da!"

Miaka, at the mouth of the cave, stopped cold when she saw them.

"YOU'RE ALIVE!" she shrieked, causing an earsplitting echo, and raced forward to throw her arms around Chichiri. Spying Tasuki, she flew to sit beside him. "And you - you're all right too - oh, thank goodness! I was so frightened! I had the most terrible feeling-"

"Ah, yer worryin' about nothing," Tasuki said gruffly.

But Miaka would not be deterred from her efforts to fuss over both of them, and soon the other Suzaku warriors descended upon them with equal concern. Mitsukake brooked no argument as he checked Chichiri and Tasuki over for battle injuries; Tamahome teasingly remarked on Tasuki's bedraggled appearance, which set off a fierce bickering match; Chiriko quietly tugged on Chichiri's sleeve and asked if there were any tasks he could assist with.

Chichiri himself retreated behind his mask, giving a calm and Nuriko-free explanation of what had happened. Meanwhile, Tasuki's normally combative demeanor had returned, and he angrily brushed off even the slightest hint of sympathy for his near-drowning. If Chichiri had not witnessed it himself, he might have thought the incident had been a mere annoyance. It occurred to him that the bandit was almost as skilled at putting up a mask as he himself was.

_Almost-_ because for the briefest of moments, Chichiri caught Tasuki's eyes locked upon him, warm and unguardedly grateful. And the monk found himself surprised by the warm ache in his own chest, and his inability to look away.

This was not the detachment he had spent so many years cultivating, but - but somehow, Chichiri knew his path had changed. Perhaps detachment were not the final goal of his spiritual journey. Perhaps it were also his fate to be given a second chance at friendship.

And though Tasuki could not see it, Chichiri permitted himself a true, broad smile beneath his mask.

-fin-


End file.
